


Clear

by cynthia_arrow (thesilverarrow)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 08:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5736370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverarrow/pseuds/cynthia_arrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is having a hard time dealing with his feelings for Ron, especially since they're sharing a room at The Burrow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clear

**Author's Note:**

> Set, let's say, roundabout book 5 or 6? In some relatively canon-free version of their world?
> 
> Yes, they're underage. They're not doing anything scandalous.
> 
> (Import from livejournal, originally posted in 2009.)

It was too warm in Ron's room. That was the problem. Harry appreciated how the slow-burning fire helped keep the cold December night at bay, but he felt a little like he couldn't breathe.  
  
 _If only it were the fire_ , he thought.   
  
Long past midnight, long past Hermione yawning and heading off to Ginny's room, they were huddled around one of Percy's pretentious old charms textbooks, shoulders knocking together as they made each other laugh thinking of ridiculous uses for dull but stupidly complicated spells. It was the kind of thing they'd done a million times in the Gryffindor common room, but somehow, here alone at The Burrow it felt different.   
  
As warm as it was, Harry's skin was flushed, but Ron's was as pale as ever, and his long fingers were improbably cold as they kept accidentally brushing Harry's when he turned a page. Ron's hair had gotten a bit long and shaggy again, so long Harry was perpetually fighting the urge to brush it back off his face, out of his eyes. Not that he spent much time looking Ron in the eyes. Sometimes, that wasn't smart.   
  
Not that it was particularly smart to be sitting that close to him in the first place, but Harry had long ago stopped asking himself how he always ended up falling into the gravitational pull of his best friend's body. After all, knowing didn't make any difference. Pulling away probably wouldn't, either, he knew, but he got up anyway, made some excuse about needing air. That was true enough, anyway.   
  
As he stood in the Weasley's back garden, looking up at the clear night sky, the wind was biting, but that was good. It jolted him awake and back to reality. It helped remind him that what he wanted just wasn't possible. A person can only get stupidly, miraculously lucky so often in one lifetime. And a person can only rarely find so true a friend.   
  
He hadn't been gone more than a minute or two when he heard the back door open again. Hands shoved into his pockets, Ron approached him slowly--one might say cautiously--enough that it made him a little nervous.  
  
"Bloody hell, it's freezing," he murmured when he stepped into place beside him. Always beside him.  
  
"What are you…?"  
  
"Saw you out the window," he replied. "You looked…" He bowed his head the way he does when he's unsure of himself. "I dunno," he finally said with a shrug. After a heavy pause, he added, "Are you…sick or something?"  
  
"No. Not sick."  
  
"Alright." After another pause, this one even more loaded, he said, "Do you...?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I dunno," he muttered. "Do you want me to...?" With a jerk of his head, he gestured to the house.  
  
Harry looked him in the eyes for the first time since he came outside, smiled and shook his head _no_ , despite all the very good reasons he had for coming out there in the first place. He couldn't help it. Ron just nodded, then they both turned their eyes on the dark sky, the pinpricks of shine and the perfect circle of the white moon.   
  
It should've been calming, comforting, but Harry was feeling that same tension he noticed when they were upstairs, only now he wasn't entirely sure it was ever coming just from him. When he finally glanced at him again, he saw that Ron's hands were out of his pockets, and they were clenched into fists. A beat later, he felt a tug on the sleeve of his coat, and when he turned, Ron stepped closer, a close he'd never been before. Ron stared at him for a long moment, long enough for Harry's heart to start pounding wildly--because it was clear now, so clear--then Ron closed his eyes and leaned in fast and kissed him softly on the mouth.   
  
As Ron was drawing back, murmuring _sorry, I--_ , Harry grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him in for another kiss, this one deeper and longer. Their mouths were shockingly warm, and Ron's lips were so soft.   
  
Harry had always expected that if they ever kissed, it would be comfortable, familiar, but this absolutely wasn't--in the best possible way. It was dizzying and terrifying and overwhelming and wonderful.   
  
When they finally pulled back from the kiss without at all pulling away from each other, Ron murmured, "You know, I didn't actually come out here to do that."  
  
"Riiight," Harry said, grinning.  
  
"I'm serious," Ron whined. He sighed. "I still wasn't even sure if…"  
  
"Hmm?" Harry murmured in his ear.  
  
"…you know, if maybe I was maybe, I dunno, imagining it?"  
  
Harry's smile turned relieved and sheepish as he shook his head in reply, adding, "Well, _I_ was _absolutely certain_ it was all in my head."  
  
"We're exactly the sort of idiots Hermione always says we are, aren't we?"  
  
Harry let out a peal of laughter, but it was soon silenced as Ron pulled him in for a long kiss, this one more familiar, because this was _them_ , finally.


End file.
